Waiting in Moments
by r'n'rb
Summary: We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese. A collection of moments examining the effects of the finale, and the actions of those in the aftermath. Complete
1. Three Days Of Solid Denial

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: 1

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

Fingers tap restlessly at the sticky bar top, left hand clenches and unclenches around the neck of a half empty beer, right leg twitches at furious pace, hair reaches for all corners of the room. Cappie's eyes stay glued to the door.

Right leg stretches, left leg twitches, left hand raises beer, and mouth welcomes it. Cappie's eyes remain glued to the door. Unblinking; he is staring hard enough that it is clear to all who meet his gaze that whatever he is looking at cannot be seen by their eyes.

He is not watching; he is waiting. He is not watching, he is not responding to Beaver's hand on his shoulder for the umpteenth time, he is not reacting to Spitter's stream of consciousness ramble about girls and life and love and polywhatever; he is waiting.

And if he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that he is so tired of waiting. And if he were to be brutally honest, all feelings aside, 'give it to me straight doc', he would admit that this time, the waiting, the beer, is all his own doing. But of course, he's not, so it's not his fault. And really, its not like she's here to prove him wrong anyway.

He knows she won't be coming here tonight, Dobbler's , well any bar really was his turf, the homeland and safety net for him and all his brothers. She won't be coming here tonight and he knows that it's his fault and his fault alone.

He knows she won't be here tonight and that is why he came here; his homeland, his haven – so noisy and full of action that he will not be at risk of slipping into his thoughts, which means slipping into a self pitying hole in a darkness that claws at his mind, whispering that this was his fault, that he could have stopped this, that they both could be happy right now, that he could be getting laid by the one person he thought of every time he came whilst fucking another girl.

So he is here: bar stool confession, idle mind, idle hands, restless mind, restless hands; broken heart. No, he is not thinking about not thinking about it at all.

And that is why he is here.

Because he knows she won't be.

So why is he waiting, eye's fixated on the door?

* * *

Eyes closed, the other senses take over touch, taste, smell, sound: fingers are seeing the pillow, soft/lumpy, fingers spot the clicker hard/plastic , fingers spy the half eaten bag of chips, hear the crackle, smell the vinegar – just one more- tongue tastes the salt. Fingers continue to search, feeling for items that appear in her mind and her hands grasp, graze and feel. Finally, soft and papery fingers close on the tissue and she wipes the blur of tears away and opens her eyes.

The evidence of herself imposed imprisonment is astounding , bags of chips and cookies litter the floor, a stack of Reese Witherspoon dvds and two issues of Cosmo are open to the confessions page complete the a pyramid atop piles of dirty clothes, another magazine, a valentines issue from 2001 is crumpled on her duvet. Blinds drawn, lights out and the invisible line which separates her side from Ashleigh's is now discernable as her best friend's side so neat and orderly looks as if it were from another house, another school, another life.

Casey has not left her room for ten hours, and that was for a comfort food restock and a trip to the bathroom. Casey has not left the house in three days.

She looks at the clock on her bedside table: 12:00 am, she frowns at this, or maybe she deepens her frown, there is no mirror in her view but she is pretty certain her lips were pointed downward at begin with.

12:00 am and she is praying that Ashleigh spends the night at Fishers. She loves Ashleigh but all Ash wants to do is talk about IT. And she does not want to talk about IT, she does not want to scream or cry about IT, she does not want to drink IT away, she does not want to think about IT.

What she wants to do now is burrow, to China if possible but the bottom of a blanket cocoon is okay as well.

12:01 am and if she were perfectly honest with herself she would admit that she has been screaming and crying about IT for the past three days and that if she could reach the alcohol on her desk she would be drinking IT away. And if she were to be blunt as a hungover Rebecca, brutally claws out honest, she would admit that not speaking about IT does not discount the fact that IT is all she has thought about since she fled the party. Not that she has given IT any thought, of course.

12:02 am and she hears Ashleigh's drunken stumble through the door.

She closes her eyes and pretends to sleep, because drunken Ash loves to chat, and chatting would lead to the talk, and she most definitely is not interested in talking about IT, which shouldn't even be an issue since she is not thinking about IT.

Eyes closed she hears the snick of the door closing and pitter patter on the carpet as her roommate and (former?) confidant goes through the motions of stripping off and settling down. She finds herself relieved that Fisher is not with her. She has dealt with Ash bringing home boys before, has hummed tunes in her head to mask the sighs and groans from the bed across but she knows nothing could drown out the sounds of contentment and the whispered 'I love you's ' from her best friend and her lover, the cute couple, the perfect match. Fisher had spent the night yesterday and her palms bled as she dug her nails in, trying to ignore the fact that the blissful union across the room made her ache for the one boy she thought of every time she was with another.

"Casey?"

Ashleigh's voice cuts through her non thinking, a quiet whisper to see if she is awake.

She clenches her fists tightly, purses her lips, squeezes her eyes, unmoving, unspeaking.

She does not want to speak, does not want to think, does not want to dream about IT.

Her lips remain pursed until she hears Ashleigh shift her covers in resignation.

Because all she wants to do is ask if he was there tonight.

* * *

Hey,

So there have already been 500000 post finale fics ( I have already done two) but hey, inspiration is inspiration and I think that episode was fuel for quite a lot of Cappie/Casey fires.

First off: This is a chaptered story, however it will not read in a linear fashion, I tend not to write cohesive storylines very well, instead I like to elaborate on the details and emotions that take place in moments. So this story will progress as a series of moments that examine Casey, Cappie and perhaps some other characters as they deal with the events of the finale. This will probably end in a Cappie/Casey reunion however who knows where each moment will lead?

Secondly: The second quote by Dorothy Gilman to me sums up why Cappie rejected Casey, and I hope to use that idea throughout the story.

Anyways, enough rambling on my part.

Please review, I really appreciate any form of encouragement and constructive critisism.

-A


	2. After Seven Days Come Baby Steps

* * *

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: 2. **After Seven Days Come Baby Steps**

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

There is something ridiculous and ironic that the big monumental moments in her life have been reduced to stepping outside of the sorority doors to grab a coffee.

She realizes that this monumental event is the most mundane, routine and unexciting activity possible to any other student at CRU, hell, last week she would have said getting coffee was a boring necessity. But today, this moment, as her shaky legs draw her toward the coffee cart; this is a big moment for her.

This is monumental, this is the first time she has left the house since the incident that shall not be named.

Part of her feels ashamed to the point that she is paranoid that every gaze she tries to avoid knows about IT and is judging her for hiding in her room for a week. Seven days of solitude has turned her into whisper of her confidant self, avoiding phone calls, hiding from Ashleigh and Rusty, hiding from _him_... mentally she is now a social pariah and she twists her surroundings inside, what if they are avoiding her and not the other way around?

Naturally this inner battle goes unnoticed, on the outside she is another tired student making the walk from A to B, an army of hungry students around her making the trek toward the coffee cart – a boring necessity.

One soldier notices the emptiness in her eyes; she fights a wince when he brushes her shoulder. Physical human contact right now felt so foreign, so wrong.

Of course he misinterprets emptiness for exhaustion and she feels the shadow of a grateful smile hover momentarily on her lips.

He smiles a knowing smile.

"Late night?"

It takes her a minute to realize that she hasn't really spoken in a week, and when she does it feels like there are cotton balls in every corner of her mouth. Old Casey should really beat this New Casey to a pulp.

" Uh, yeah...really late night, didn't sleep at all"

Technically she wasn't lying, she doesn't sleep anymore, in sleep she can't control her thoughts and she knows she would dream about IT about _Him_ if she gave her subconscious the chance.

"You headed to the coffee cart?"

"Yup"

Short and sweet, she needs to keep her answers to a minimum because the more she talks the more her tone, her words would give her away until she might as well be carrying a " Still In Love With My Ex Even Though He Rejected Me" sign over her head for the world to see and pity her.

Nameless boy nudges her again. Inside she shudders.

He is smiling, a genuine open mouthed smile that knocks the wind out of her because she can't remember the last time her smile was that honest and open, or if it ever will be again.

"Well come with me then, I'm an expert at getting through crowds, I'll have you at the cart in no time cause you seriously look like you could use an IV drip of caffeine"

She is numb as she takes his proffered hand and is pulled at an alarmingly quick pace through the crowd of students. She is numb until they arrive, a little short of breath at the monumental destination, and then she pulls her hand out of his quickly because it feels so wrong. Mentally she berates herself over feeling like this; the boy was just trying to help and she is now over analyzing every minute form of contact so she has something to self flagellate with.

Nameless boy with overly friendly hands either doesn't notice or pretends not to notice that he is dealing with a girl made from stone and smiles that annoyingly true smile.

" I'm Eric, by the way"

She looks up at him and knows that five minutes from now she won't be able to remember his face. She is stone girl, she is unfeeling, and she is only here to embark on a monumental coffee excursion.

"Casey"

The man behind the cart offers a welcome interruption by demanding if they were going to order anytime this century. Small talk is hard when you are made of stone, and don't want to deepen the cracks.

Eric laughs.

"I'll have an Americano and Casey here is going to have a...."

" I'll have a Cappi-" she clears her throat and does not think about the implications of her almost slip.

"I'll have an Americano as well"

Once the coffees have been served she makes herself busy by doctoring it with milk.

And then she sees _him_. _He_ is a red and brown blur out of the corner of her eye, _he_ is a red and brown blur and that whisper of_ his_ existence shatters her stone exterior. Her heard pounds, her hands shake, she spills her milk. She mops it up furiously, tears of humiliation threatening to fall. Please don't let _him_ see her; please don't let _him_ see her. She takes a deep breath and turns until she can no longer see _him_, out of sight, out of mind – forget the fact _his_ face is burned into her eyelids. Another breath and she focuses on herself, on her surroundings, on her monumental event. Nameless boy Eric stands to the side and she realizes that he has been talking to her this whole time.

"Wow, Casey you really are tired"

She forces a smile and she knows it looks bitchy and she knows she can do nothing to change it. She wonders if _he _is looking, she wonders if _he_ thinks she is flirting right now, she does not wonder if _he_ is jealous, instead she wonders if _he_ will take this as another negative sign; she wonders and she panics.

As if finally sensing that something is off with the sad tired stone girl, Eric sticks his hands in his pockets and starts to retreat.

"Well I better get to class"

Right, school, classes...She hasn't been to class in a week, she wonders _if _he has either.

Eric is waiting for something from her so she raises her hand awkwardly.

"Thanks for the coffee"

Inside she cringes, New Casey is so caught up with whether or not he is looking that basic social interaction skills seem to be nonexistent.

Eric with the soon to be forgotten face grins and shakes her hand. Is _he_ looking? Does _he_ think she's moved on?

"No problem, see you around Casey"

And she finds herself too exhausted to wrench a reply from herself so instead she nods frantically and smiles until the boy has waved and walked the other way.

She realizes she is shaking violently, the coffee in her cup threatening to spill over. he goes through the motions of putting on a plastic lid and cardboard sleeve and finds herself to weak not to look so she glances out of the corner of her eye.

_He_ is watching her.

The blurry figure in her peripheral vision is sitting upright, and _his_ face is unmoving in her direction.

_He_ is watching her.

She nearly spills her coffee again. This is too much too soon. Today was supposed to be about rehabilitation, baby steps to merge this shaking wreck of New Casey with her confidant former self.

She didn't want strangers offering her coffee; she didn't want small talk and giving out names. But mostly she didn't want _him_ here, seeing her like this, seeing her without her confidant curtain to hide her exhausted, shattered interior. She didn't want _him _to see what she had become.

_He_ is watching her.

She is taking deep breaths and looking the other way.

She walks slowly, head held high, shaking hands where _he _can't see them.

She can feel the heat of _his_ gaze on her back. Like the wicked witch, she is melting, melting. And part of her wishes she were just an invisible puddle on the ground, her insides certainly feel like she is.

Like a walking target she feels _his _eyes follow her and she works hard on not wondering what _he_ is thinking.

_He_ is watching her, and she is trying hard not to wonder why.

Baby steps, she walks away from the cart, away from him. Baby steps.

Once she turns the corner, she checks behind her.

_He_ has not followed, _he _cannot see her now.

Nothing helps. No distance, no stone exterior, no rehabilitation can ease the sting of the burn; _he_ is haunting her.

She drops her coffee and breaks into a run.

She will not leave the house again for another three days.

Baby steps.

* * *

I have a very inconsistant style of writing, which is why I choose to write in oneshot, or in this case, " moments" as I tend to differ from story to story or moment to moment.

Please review, its very saddening to put somthing out there and get no response.


	3. Nine Days Of Clasping A Bottle

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **3 Nine Days of Clasping A Bottle in the Wrong Hand**

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

Somewhere in a parallel universe Cappie's evil twin is laughing mercilessly at him. Actually, he's pretty sure that he would be laughing at himself right now, but that would require an out of body... something because his frown lines show no sign of easing off his face.

Beneath his furrowed brows, and downward tilted mouth he tries to find a spark of self deprecating humour. He is literally sitting on the couch twiddling his thumbs; ten days ago he would have peed himself laughing if he had stumbled on any of his brothers doing the same. At this moment in time however, he finds himself caught on self deprecating, the humour just out of his grasp.

So he continues to sit, restless and exhausted all at once, thumbs twiddling, arms resting, leg twitching, eyes closed to the world.

This ...situation would be so much easier to deal with if he actually had something to do. A two week social calendar suspension, fuck that! Kappa Tau needed a party, more importantly he needed another party; his fingers are literally itching to plan something, his mind eager to focus on anything but last week and his current romantic dilemma. Moreover, he feels another party is needed to replace the bitter taste the end of the world drama left in his mouth.

In his film studies class they had looked at finding the perfect moment out of one hundred takes. In his mind's eye he directed his memory again and again until only the closet setting remained the same, he would push her in to the closet, or he would kiss her back, or she would never show up to begin with. One hundred times over in his memory and the moment never felt right.

He lets out a sigh and opens his eyes and resists the urge to slap himself for handling this like such melodramatic child. He has never been one to brag about his willpower but holy crap, he can't even control his thoughts enough to avoid thinking about it for one fucking second.

He just really, really, really, needs something to focus on right now; like right this second before he pulls his hair out and pulls up her number on speed dial.

Parallel universe Cappie is writing one hundred "I Told You So's " on neon coloured post-its and pasting it to his mirror for pathetic yearning Cappie to witness through the looking glass.

In a moment of desperation – a feeling becoming more and more frequent during resting periods- he had dragged his book bag downstairs and now as he opens it he is momentarily stunned at how ...childish, and desolate his attempts are to avoid the situation.

He is not taking control, he is avoiding it. He is not dealing with it, he is distancing himself as much as physically possible. And what strikes him as odd is that he has avoided the harsh and the emotional his whole life and although this situation has rendered him a nervous wreck, he has no desire to take control. Some part of him wants to avoid this, and every single particle in his body doesn't want to deal with it, at least not now.

Frantically, he opens his bag and pulls out the first book.

Women's Studies.

He chokes. Parallel Universe Cappie Google's -or rather Elgoog's- the definition of irony.

And then he hurls the book at the nearest wall, the resulting thump ringing in his ears. So eager he was to ignore all the implications and feelings and actions that would arise out of merely thinking about the situation, he had almost considered studying. If that in itself did not speak volumes in regards to his predicament, than the fact that he pulled out a book from their one shared class was either a cruel, cruel twist of fate, or a sign. And if it's the latter then he is ignoring it and driving through a red light. Can't a college boy have one moment that does not revolve around a girl, this girl, THE girl?

Evil Cappie rips a strip of tape with his teeth and posts a picture of her on the mirror just beneath a yellow post it; "I Told You So".

He drags his eyes to the ceiling and contemplates counting ceiling tiles before remembering that he makes fun of people who do that. The TV is on in front of him, but he has spent the last few days in a cycle from one screen to another- switching the game console in his hand for a glass of beer, and lumpy couch for a hard bar stool- and to be honest he just can't bring himself to start it again.

He wonders where she is and what she is doing. He wonders if she still has the picture of him, herself and Evan from another life. Last time he checked it lay folded in her jewellery case; in his mind's eye he pictures it in a thousand little pieces lying in a trash can above tissues and magazines and below a glass container that could probably be recycled, were it not for the half inch of vodka lurking in the bottom.

His hands clench and he considers calling Rusty to borrow a Rubik's or something equally nerdy, time consuming and most importantly mentally stimulating-read: distracting. All geekiness aside, he knows that calling Rusty is out of the question; his little brother chose now to side with his older sister and although he still has the authority to call him out for it, he doesn't have the heart, and he doesn't have the strength to stomach the repercussions he would face from at least one, if not both of the Cartwright's.

"You okay Cap?"

Beaver's entrance is a welcomed distraction, and the rush that fills him at the prospect of something to occupy him is almost embarrassing.

"Yeah man I'm fine, you?"

His blonde friend looks sceptical and peers at him intently while taking a sip from the ever present red cup.

"To be honest dude...you look like you've been dumped"

The flash of irony strikes so fast he feels as if he's been punched in the gut, and his insides squirm while he attempts to turn his grimace into a gritty smile. He hasn't told any of his brothers about what happened, to be honest he knows all of them will find out soon enough anyway – Rusty never could keep a secret, and god knows what his sister told him- but for the time being he would rather sulk along in this, not even Beaver would side with him on this, they had watched him suffer for too long to understand his reasons for saying no. In fact if pressed he doubts he could rationalize his own reasons for saying no, whatever he was feeling at the time, seems a pathetic shadow to the amount of grief he is experiencing now.

After the world's end ,the Kappa Tau's had woken him with raucous laughter when they spotted him passed out in his own vomit, hunched in a fetal position on the bathroom tiles, a situation that even the most sensible of the brothers had wound up in enough times that no one suspected he may have purposely drunk himself into a coma. They did not suspect his heartbreak and he offered them no evidence to believe otherwise.

" Beav in order to get dumped , I'd need a girlfriend in the first place and you and I both know how well the single life is agreeing with me"

Although spoken with true frat boy bravado, he tenses all his muscles to avoid cringing at his own words. So forced and brittle he can't help but pick at them in his head, can't help but break them apart like little bones; frail and hard at once. He imagines plunging them in, ripping out his heart and watching it pulse on the coffee table.

Beaver takes another irritatingly sceptical sip of his drink.

"Right..."

He needs something to fill the silence that Beaver has let linger is if to say all the things that they both are thinking. He struggles to control the path of his thoughts; this rock face he has been scaling has fewer handholds and the higher he gets the more likely it is that he'll slip and fall back in to memories of her and the sickening images of the fallout.

He eyes the cup in his friend's hand.

"Wouldn't you say that... three in the afternoon is just a little too early to be drinking?"

Both Beaver and parallel universe Cappie send him a look as if to ask "What are you on?"

"Just because we can't have parties doesn't mean we don't drink. And weren't you the one sneaking Baileys into your coffee last week? What gives buddy? Your hiding out in your room, so I'm guessing it's about a girl, but you're not cleaning so I'm guessing it's not Casey but You also haven't been seeing any girl for more than one date so maybe it is her...What's going on man"

Suddenly he is sick of all this. There was no fight, no harsh words. That had been weeks ago, This...situation was barely a situation if he considered that they weren't even speaking before. This wasn't a breakup, he wasn't dumped, and this was merely a glitch in the machine he had been crafting to shut down her tractor beam. He needs to get over her, but mostly he needs to get over himself and stop acting like a heartbroken girl.

And that would require what he feels he needs most of all:

Beer, Friends, Babes and Food ( in no particular order).

When he speaks he is smiling, and he hopes that it fills out his hollow words.

"You're right Beaver, no use skulking around, no parties' means more time at Dobblers. Call the boys up; our livers are in dire need of pickling"

Beaver being the gentle giant that he is, seems to understand that now is not the time to question anything he says right now, and softens his gaze as he brings the cup once again to his lips.

"Okay, whatever you say Cap, I'll call the brothers and lets meet in half an hour I guess" .

He feels elated, finally something to do. Screw the fact that this has been his exact routine for the past nine days, screw the fact that tomorrow will probably play out the same. Screw the fact that he will probably end up being carried home, he wants it, relishes it and can't wait for the first rush of a buzz to cloud over the sharp edges he has been carrying for the past nine days.

Evil parallel universe is blowing smoke rings with a knowing look in his eye, sensing the outcome and judging him for it. He scribbles the word "child" onto a post it and sticks it right at eye level.

Dobblers. A beer in one hand, a phone number in the other.

He smiles, he drinks, he laughs, he drinks, pats Wade on the shoulder after he imitates a professor, he drinks.

He is doing, is interacting, is out with the boys; a normal healthy frat boy. He is reckless and is feeling the thrill.

He is elated.

But it is a false high, and he doesn't need a mirror to recognize the emptiness starting back at him.

He drinks.

* * *

AN: I am just not completely happy with how this chapter ended up coming out . But....

Anyways if this seems slow, and as if the characters have been brooding for far too long I'm sorry, it's a little tedious. However I am basing the timeline roughly on the amount of time it took for me to get over my ex, and eventually repair our relationship ( we're friends now though and not nearly as epic as caseyandcap haha)

I can promise that Cap and Case will have "moments together" soon, and eventually happy ones at that.

I just can't promise how long it will take to get there, perhaps several more chapters of them recognizing what needs to be changed withion themselves before they consider changing how they relate to each other.

PLEASE review, it truly is the reasons I get inspired to post future chapters.

-Merci

* * *


	4. Thirteen Days Of Failed Confrontations

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **4 Thirteen Days Of Failed Confrontations **

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

Salad is one of the most impossible things to eat gracefully on a good day. She has never been the girl to order one on a first date and generally judged the girls that did. And besides, there is nothing more jarring than the sound of metal against porcelain, the plate scraping away as the fork jabs at stray pieces of lettuce. On a good day, there are giggles to mask the crunch of the leafy greens; there is conversation to ripple over the stabbing action, and a delicate hand to cover the large bites, chewed with a charmingly goofy smile. On a good day there is no deafening silence interrupted by awkward stabs and the screech as the metal fork jars against the bowl.

Today is not a good day, and she finds herself pushing the last few pieces of lettuce, cucumber and something like goat cheese around uncomfortably, daring to break the tense silence with an embarrassingly loud crunch.

She doesn't know what possessed her to invite Max out for lunch, and is even less sure why he would bother agreeing. Considering how she left him, treated him, is currently treating him, and considering she is about the most depressing person at CRU right now she has absolutely no clue why he would agree to this...silent torture.

It was supposed to help them both, or at least that was how she had rationalized it, but that was before the awkward handshake hello, the tight smiles and shaking clenched fists (at least on her part). She doesn't know if he has met her eyes this entire time because she has been resolutely avoiding his. The few moments of relief and fresh air occurred when the waitress came to collect their orders, and when both of them left for an extended bathroom break, no doubt to linger in the comforting alone-ness and at least in her case, to splash water on her face and try and regain her focus.

This was supposed to help them both; a peace offering on her part and perhaps some well needed closure for him. It had occurred to her yesterday morning, while lying in bed and "studying" – read: wallowing in self pity that she had not once thought about Max since the incident at Kappa Tau.

And although this current setting is painfully uncomfortable it has got her moving again and if she is being completely honest with herself all this thinking and moping has left her feeling more unaccomplished than ever – for this she envies Rusty who can accomplish simply by thinking, and as for the moping...

Once she had realized her lack of attention toward her very fresh ex, her thoughts grew incredulous and incredibly self loathing in nature: How dare she flounder liked a child for days on end over a boy she had rejected countless times, when she had kicked another to the curb with no warning and with a half hearted, distracted and half baked excuse and then not bother to follow through the next day with an explanation or a sorry. She hadn't given him the mental time of day; hadn't given him or herself the chance to honour or at least acknowledge the breakup, which was both an injustice to their relationship, to Max and to the last few months of her life. Her mourning over Cappie and her descent into self pity completely suffocated anything else in the world; it was if she had never dated Max at all.

And in a moment of sheer primal self preservation, she had resisted falling to a new self loathing low and instead dialled Max's number on her phone, he deserved the truth; he deserved a real breakup – they both deserved the closure.

In the present moment however, this logic evades her and the past twenty minutes has been spent in a stumbling silence. Too nervous at the prospect of drawing this out so she orders off the starter menu, only to wince as Max orders a large time consuming entree. She slows her pace to match his large plate and curses the chic salad again and again.

Twenty minutes of silence, twenty minutes of silence and chewing, twenty drawn out minutes of silence, chewing, stabbing and swallowing and she searches for something to lead her into her intended words. She does not dare ask how he's been, because honestly she doesn't want to know, doesn't want to add "crushing guilt" to the already towering mountain of emotions she has been feeling lately. Yet at the same time all she is wondering is how he is coping; and she hates herself for wondering because whatever he's been through she will unconsciously translate and apply to Cappie and then finally to herself, as if Max's pain could somehow account for the mess she has made between all of them. She doesn't ask though, she tells herself she doesn't want to know.

Max's does however, because when she looks up from her plate of green his face is positively bubbling with emotions... Until he boils over into anger; exploding as he drops his fork into his plate loudly. Fleetingly she envisions a gavel hitting wood: she is about to be judged.

"Why did you bring me here Casey?"

His tired voice betrays any anger in his face; he seems exhausted, stretched too far and she wonders if maybe this was the worst idea possible.

She draws on the last gasp of inner strength and steels her face into the resolved mask she puts on at Sorority functions, or when dealing with Rebecca.

"I wanted to apologize"

He snorts and she falters, mask dropping to the floor and shattering into a million pieces; porcelain eyes and mouth slipping through the cracks on the floor. Unseeing and unspeaking the broken mask offers no help and she retreats as he interrupts.

His words come out as a hiss, and she reels at the bitterness in his voice.

"What could you possibly have to apologize for huh? Dumping me out of the blue? cutting me out of your life out of fucking nowhere?"

She lets out a squeak and tries to protest but she really doesn't have the words.

"Save it Casey! You have _nothing_ to be sorry for. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry, I gave up my dream school for you, I gave up my future for something that didn't even last half a year. Oh no, I am the one who is fucking sorry Casey, you don't get to be"

Half of her wants to look around and see if any of the surrounding patrons were listening on this whispered argument...She is thankful for a moment that Max has a little more tact then say, Cappie, who most likely would have been shouting had he been in this position. However, she is not thinking about Cappie, she is focusing on holding Max's gaze, because she needs to ...if not redeem herself, redeem this bitter boy before her and let him move on.

"Max please...just listen"

He nods and she has a feeling he does so not because he wants to hear but because he is deflate; all the hot air is spent and a tired boy is left sitting in the wreckage.

She gathers her breath and approaches the next moment like one of her speeches in her brief presidential reign, she needs not to pause, not to falter because she knows if she does not get this out on one go, she will never get it out .

"Max please understand that, this breakup was not on a whim. I would never toss you aside because of some fleeting emotion...What happened at kappa tau was a long time coming and it has everything and nothing to do with you, and everything and nothing to do with Cappie. And I don't want to rehash everything and all my reasons for acting like a selfish bitch but I do want you to know that I ...I really like you and I did love you for a moment, it's just that we weren't right, we were never on the same page, I..."

She lets out a shaky breath and continues her gaze a little above his head, not quite ready to see his reaction.

"We weren't on the same page; not at all, it was as if you were ten chapters ahead; giving up grad school, planning Star Wars themed weddings"

She hears his protest but she can't stop, she can't falter.

"I wasn't at the page yet and I don't think I ever will be, and I know this all seems so abrupt but I've been part of another story for so much longer and I hate it, I really fucking hate because it hurts and it sucks for both of us, it but my story isn't with you and it's not fair for either of us to pretend otherwise...I'm sorry that it ended up like this, I really am."

And then she finds it physically impossible to say anything more, instead she meets his gazes and in her head screams please understand, please fucking understands.

He looks resigned; regretful, bitter...a million and one emotions behind his eyes brewing and threatening to spill over, until after a moment of silence he settles his gaze into something she recognizes as jaded.

He smiles bitterly, and his tone comes out more acidic than she anticipates.

"I know... In your fairy tale the Princess ends up with the Prince, and in my book the Plebeian is once put in his place, oh I know Casey, it's the story of my fucking life"

She winces, she pleads.

"Max...don't"

He ignores her and stands up throwing two twenty dollar bills onto the table. And then he is leaning over, and then he is in her face. Angry, bitter: fed up. This is not how she imagined this meeting but lately things have had a habit of turning out for the worse.

"I'm sorry Case. I can't do it, I can't. I know you feel like crap right now and I know you probably thought this was helpful in your chipper fix- all -broken-ends mind set but I'm not going to sit here and make you feel any better about this. You broke my heart, fine. But you don't get to apologize for it like this is something I'm supposed to accept. I don't accept it and I sure as hell don't want to sit around with you until this situation is okay. I'm sorry if this doesn't fit your fairytale ending but I gave up a life for you and now I've got to get it back and right now. This..."

He gestures derisively to the half eaten lunch, to the seemingly ignorant restaurant, to her cowering frame.

"Right now this is the last thing I need. So no, I can't do this, I can't be friends or try and be civil, I can't fucking do this. So maybe I'll see you around but I don't really want to be around you or your brother or anything that reminds me of you right now. Okay?"

She is speechless and the crushing guilt she was trying to avoid is all around her now, pushing on her chest, pricking tears at her eye, she feels herself nodding wordlessly but everything seems hazy clouded by a guilt she hadn't thought possible.

He seems to sense this and she watches him soften the slightest bit, even at his most jaded he was nothing if not a nice guy.

"Bye Casey"

His words are soft, and whisper themselves through her cloud of guilt, taking enough time to register that by the time she replies he has left the premises.

Numbly she reaches for her wallet, before noticing that in a final chivalrous act he has paid enough for the both of them.

Slowly, with shaky feet that feel heavy and too light at the same time, she cautiously makes her way out the door and towards her car.

Driving back home she falters between wanting to analyze and rationalize the conversation and wanting to tuck it away for a good, a closed chapter in her life.

Part of her considers talking to Ashleigh about this, but things have been tense between the two of them lately and in all honesty she isn't sure what there is to say. This breakup with Max was not the reason for her moping, or her tears, this breakup was a source of guilt, fuelled by the fact that she is still steadfast in her decision to end things.

She does not want to be with Max, she wants Cappie; she should not be with Max and in her mind, she should be with Cappie. Now she finds herself with neither and it strikes her that she has not been confronting this enough to accept the fact that despite Max's bitter predictions, her fairytale may never realize itself into existence. Perhaps this is her fault; perhaps this is Cappie's and perhaps she just needs to get a grip on her own story. So that she can keep her head above the water, so that she doesn't have to drown in her romantic failings.

Something Max said sticks out at her, and prods at her as she enters pulls into the parking lot.

"I gave up a life for you and now I've got to get it back" His words float through her head, the voice more similar to her soprano than Max's baritone.

She needs to get her life back. If she is thinking clearly there is a lot she wants to change, some of it has to do with Cappie but she is beginning to realize that she is unhappy with so much more than her romantic suicides. There is a lot she wants change. She needs a break from dramatic encounters and failed confessions, she is tired of tears and she is tired of staying in her head until she is sick of her own voice; she is sick of this fucking situation: She needs to get her life back.

For now though, she lets herself feel the exhaustion overwhelm her as it drips down from her forehead to her toes. For now she lets herself be pulled into the safety of her bed, and the comfortable familiarity of hiding out and waiting for the storm to pass.

* * *

Possible emotional progress 1. Actual Cappie/Casey interaction 0 . It'll happen soon though, they both need to grow a little.

Please, please review, it really would make my day, and you know...spur me to write more =)

LoveLoveLoveandThanks


	5. Fourteen Days In Never Never Again Land

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **5 Fourteen Days In Never Never Again land**

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

In a passing comment made many, many years ago, the then Dean of CRU had likened the Kappa Tau house to the story of Peter Pan and the Lost Boys. Most of the Presidents since that time had embodied a certain youthful leadership and had led the brothers through school and Greek life in a more carefree, unorthodox manner. Kappa Tau was a Neverland of sorts, a haven for the lost boys and their carefree leader, until they felt the pull of adulthood and made way for new lost boys and more youthful Peter Pan's. In recent years, it seemed that no one embodied the spirit of Peter as much as the current leader Cappie, a man/boy who sought youth, fun and freedom, with a reckless carefree energy that the lost boys ate up eagerly and mimicked as they turned their Frat house into a living, breathing Neverland, always a party, always a chase, always something to scream about. What separated this current generation from the past was that this Peter Pan had or rather did have at one point, a Wendy, a charming girl, who had brought a touch of grace and order to the house until her visits expired and the house descended back into carefree chaos.

The Kappa Tau house had always had a knack for managing to get all business in order just in time for moments that mattered most and then falling back into chaotic frat boy obscurity. If ninety percent of the year was spent neglecting the books, any form of upkeep, and ignoring all bills that came in through the mail slot, the other ten percent of the time was supposed to be divided up through the year and scattered into the hands of designated Kappa Tau's – i.e. Pledges – to be sorted out, dealt with and put away to gather dust until the next year. Unfortunately the very air inside the house was a tantalising toxic mixture that caused the inhabitants to breath procrastination, until every boy's pores were saturated with the idea that whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. This meant that the ten percent of time spent organizing the house piled together unnoticed until the last minute, until the creditors were but minutes away, and the Dean was eyeing the Greek financial system with a suspicious frown and landlord was a moment from banging on the door. This meant that for the second time during his reign as president Cappie once again has had to call an emergency financial meeting.

He stands now in front of his brothers, wishing he had a cup in his hand to lubricate and ease the words out of his mouth in the careless style the Kappa Tau's are accustomed to and not the sighing listless tone he has been frequenting as of late.

"Boys. We are gathered here today to ....repay for our sins" He winces, and Wade raises an eyebrow. Too biblical, too much like a disembodied- this does not bode well- sort of voice.

"Well kind of. Pretty much we are here again_,_ because as usual we have most wisely decided to dedicate our time to the more pleasurable indulgences in life and leave the less enjoyable activities to the bitter, bitter end."

Out of the corner of his eye he notices Rusty frown, looking almost irritated and resists the urge to throw a pillow at his little brother. Last year Spitter, had been in charge of balancing the books, and the well intentioned but ill-advised boy had all but caused an uproar by suggesting they opt for a more organized system, naturally this had been met with great resistance and his little brother had ended up having to finish everything the other pledges couldn't, on top of his own work. Although they hadn't spoken of the almost battle between Rusty and Kappa Tau, Cappie knows that this is just one of the thousands of little jabs Rusty has had to endure as he is reminded once and again that he is not like the others. Still, there is a self righteous air about Spitter right now, as if he knows that this situation could have very easily been avoided and at this moment that irritates Cappie to no end. It's not as if any of them don't _know _that there is an easier way for this, it's just that this is not how it's done here – Kappa Tau and organization simply don't mix.

Irked by Rusty's silent disapproval, he continues deciding to emphasize the virtues of procrastination, if only to show his little brother that he is still the president.

"Of course we could have chugged away at this all year, but I'm pretty sure I can safely say we would rather be chugging beer"

He pauses as his brothers clap and cheer, and it almost saddens him at how easy it is to feign his happiness right now; drop the words beer, and girls into a sentence and it's as if he hasn't been brooding every moment these past two weeks- it almost saddens him but at the same time it is a warm comforting feeling, easy and familiar like a cold pint to celebrate an (i.e. any) occasion.

"However there comes a time when we have to play grown up, suit and tie boring men for one day and unfortunately that day is upon us"

He is interrupted again but this time by the sounds of booing. He resists the urge to smirk at Beavers pouting lower lip and ploughs ahead to seal the deal.

"Seeing as we have on last day left on our social calendar suspension, I say we get all this tough and boring business out of the way so that tomorrow we can celebrate our re-emergence onto the Greek social scene. And I am thinking something big, bigger than a Mariah or a Madonna comeback, we need a party to eclipse the end of the world, and what better way than to celebrate the beginning of a new world? So tomorrow break out the cavemen gear, we are throwing a dawn of time bash"

Pause again for clapping and cheering. Briefly he imagines a football stadium and the crowd that cheers at any word shouted through the speakers. The party theme had been a spontaneous thought, and he struggles not to read into it...a new dawn, a new world, a new beginning. Failing to remember any of his psych 100 classes he doesn't know if he is in denial or if he truly does want to move on. He shakes his head and does is best to look stern and commanding.

"That said, we have some serious work to do. Pledges one through three, the house is a mess it is up to you to fix it and now. This isn't baby stuff either I'm talking gutter cleaning, repainting, hedge trimming, floor waxing work. So go, Go!"

He urges the younger brothers out and they skitter away, the last boy slightly tipsy stumbles into the door twice before he makes it out, Cappie hopes they don't put him on the ladder or anything that's higher than the ground.

In his first year he remembers whining to Casey when she cancelled a date because of something Frannie had put her up to. "I need to do this Cap, apparently there's actually like tax and payments and stuff that needs to be sorted like once a week or else the house gets in trouble. I didn't realize being in a sorority was going to involve math". He remembers being sceptical, there was nothing like that at kappa tau, but then again, Kappa Tau had always run on a different sort of energy from the others. That night he recalls being so irritated with Frannie as Casey chose to complain for an hour on his bed instead of doing....more productive things with him. They had just started sleeping together at that point, and although he hadn't been a virgin, she had, and the first time that had made him almost more nervous. Once the first awkward moment was over suddenly sleeping with Casey seemed like the only desirable thing, no, the only logical thing to do at any time. He had been insatiable and for a while she had too.

He considers punching himself as he snaps back to the present moment. Stop thinking about her. Just...Stop.

"Pledges four through seven, that pile of mail on the table has your names written on it, anything that looks tax-y and official you need to give to me or Rusty and anything that looks boring toss. Oh and anything that looks like it was written to a girl, assume correctly and give it to me"

Beaver throws a pillow at him which he catches just in time.

"Rusty, I know you're not a pledge anymore but you are the only one here who has picked up a math book in the past few years so I'm going to need you to balance the books again"

He looks at Rusty with what he hopes is a pleading gaze, he hasn't really spoken to Rusty since The End of the World, save for awkward, almost cold exchanges in the hallway. Part of him understands his fierce loyalty, as it has, at times, been directed at him; however this time Rusty has allied with Casey, and on another level with Max, and Cappie has been singled out as the bad guy. This is the last thing he wants or needs especially right now, and especially today because for all the problems Spitter has created, his little brother has been more than handy for coming up with creative and intelligent solutions. And he finds he has grown a huge soft spot for the boy who is currently looking at him with a mixture of resignation and irritation. Cappie chooses not to dwell on the tension between them and instead takes his silence as confirmation and moves on to the last pledge that is perched awkwardly on the coffee table.

"Pledge eight, I'm truly am sorry to do this to you but I seem to remember you loosing in poker last week and that means you are stuck with the hallway bathroom "

He watches the boy turn slightly green and finds himself oddly satisfied in a sadistic if-I'm-going-to-be-miserable-so-are-you sort of way.

"If you're going to puke I suggest you do it before you clean the toilet and a word of caution, I would knock back a shot or two of good old Jack Daniels; it's not going to be pretty in there" He pauses the watch the last pledge walk slowly out the room looking as though he might be regretting his design to rush Kappa Tau.

He grins and the remaining boys, feeling a little like Peter Pan trying to play house with the lost boys. In the back of his head he cries out for his Wendy because she always knew when to add a little order to his chaos.

"To the rest of my brothers"

He looks pointedly at Wade and Beaver, giving them silent authority over the other boys and then he smiles and gestures broadly if not a little frantically.

"Well you've got a re-emergence party to plan. Dawn of time waits for now one, we need fliers, costumes, decor and booze, lots and lots of booze"

The room empties in a flurry as the Kappa Tau's take the one day to utilize their full potential in all areas of planning, cleaning, and organizing.

He draws his gaze back to the remaining inhabitant Rusty and offers a tentative smile, they would both be balancing the books together today and he needs to get along with him. He hopes if nothing else, the tedious act of balancing the books and accounts will distract him from all thoughts of his romantic failings. However with the brother of the girl who has plagued him sitting next to him he wonders if distraction is too high a goal to reach.

He sighs and picks up a folder.

"Well now Spitter, I guess we should start"

Rusty's answer is a silent nod and a brittle smile.

The seconds of silence between him and his little brother tick by at an agonizingly slow pace, the worst part is that Rusty is in charge of all the preliminary checking, which means that he is stuck waiting awkwardly, wondering if he should say something.

For one of the first times in his life Cappie is at a complete an utter loss for words. There seems to be no point of entry into their old rapport and he wonders for the first time if he lost two relationships that fateful night.

There is nothing but the swish of paper, the click of pen against page, and the noises created as Cappie's shifts uncomfortably, waiting, thinking. He can't apologize to Rusty directly, because he hasn't done a thing to his little brother and then he would seem dishonest and fake if he were to. He can't apologize for turning down Casey, because that would still leave Max alone and he can't apologize for Max's being alone because even though he had tried to keep them together Casey dumped him anyway, and by the by, even in his denial he knows he was still a root cause.

He can't apologize, at this moment all he can do is wait.

Surprisingly it is not all that long before Rusty breaks the silence and even more surprisingly he cuts right to the chase, a relief to Cappie as both of them have been known to spiral out on tangents before reeling into the issue at hand.

"I'm not mad at you Cap"

He looks up sharply and notices for the first time that his little brother looks exhausted; he wonders what he has been missing since his Wendy had stormed out of his Neverland at his own words of rejection. He feels like perhaps his little brother has needed him more than he has let on, and that perhaps his avoidance has little to do with his sister.

"But we're not okay either... are we?"

In the back of his mind, somewhat abstractly he notes that this conversation sounds more than a little feminine. In the back of his mind he gives both him and Spitter wedgies for it.

Rusty drops his pen and shakes his head.

"No, yeah....I dunno Cap. It seems like ever since that End of The World Party everything has just gotten complicated and dramatic and just so....ugh depressing"

His mouth twists itself into a sardonic half-smile.

"You're telling me"

Rusty winces as if remembering Cappie's own predicament, and for the second time Cappie wonders where Spitter's own angst is coming from, and directed at. He pushes the papers and folders aside, determined to find out why his little brother has been avoiding him, determined to find out what has been happening since he lost all control. There is an edge to his voice when he speaks again, and he realizes that he had been hurt more than a little by Rusty's purposeful avoidance.

"So what's up then Spitter? If you're not mad at me, then why have you been MIA for the past two weeks, I've seen you at the house like twice since....then"

Rusty smiles humourlessly.

"Okay maybe I was a little mad at first Cap, I thought that you had... well I thought wrong until I saw how upset Casey was the next day"

He flinches as Spitter's words, he had been trying not to think of how Casey was handling things, he had seen her once on campus and it had been torture, he had felt steamrollered with guilt and lust, and anger and love and all sorts of emotions he usually fled from. Once again he has to forcefully remove himself from Wendy/Casey's window and fly back to his home, the present and tune into Rusty's conversation.

"And so I know it's not your fault and I'm really not mad at you for it. But at the same time I am mad at you, but not really at you but what you are"

He frowns wondering if he had been thinking of her a moment too long or if Spitter was actually making no sense at all. He puts his hands up to slow Rusty down.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not following at all. What?"

Rusty sighs and rubs his face with his hands.

"I don't know how to say it really, it's not you I'm mad at, but it is. Ugh its, its more what you are Cap. You guys, you, always get the girl even if you don't deserve her ...look; I mean I wanted you to be with Casey more than anyone, especially when she was with Evan, but when she was with Max.....that was different. Guys like me and Max don't ever get the girl, and when he did, it sort of was like hey I can too you know? And I know that you and Casey have all this past and all this unsorted crap but when it was her and Max and me and Jordan , for once I won and you lost- well not you but you guys, the usual winners, the good-looking, popular ones and for once it seemed like there was a chance for the underdogs. And then suddenly is was like the world woke up and said 'oops, sorry' and Max's was back as a loner and Casey is once again going for you, and now I'm with Jordan, miserable because I'm literally waiting for her to wake up and go back to Andy"

A wave of sympathy and understanding and a little bit of misdirected anger washes over him as his little brother becomes at once more and more frantic and more and more resigned. He has to force himself to swallow his pride and his protests at Rusty's accusations that he did get the girl. He understands where Rusty is coming from but he wants to hit his little brother for suggesting that he has the girl now and is better off for it. She may want him but she doesn't really, he doesn't have her now and it seems as if he never will. At this thought the wind is knocked out of him and Peter Pan finds he can no longer feel enough happiness to fly. He shakes his head and focuses on Rusty's problems but instead of finding empathy he finds anger.

"Are you really that insecure Spitter? You have the girl right now, she wants you. I know it's in your nature to over analyze but Casey's relationship with Max is nothing like you and Jordan. Come on man, grow up and stop anticipating the end because then it will end, and right now I'm guessing you haven't been the most enjoyable person to be around especially for Jordan but seriously? To paint yourself as the underdog considering what you did to Andy in the process, well Spitter, it's pathetic"

Rusty looks taken aback and almost hurt and surprisingly this eggs him on further, even though he knows he is coming off harsh and even though he knows more than half his anger has nothing to do with Rusty at all.

"Stop waiting for the end, stop complaining about not having the girl when you actually do and she actually wants you, and stop comparing your relationship to what happened with Max and your sister. There is much more to what happened with her and Max, then her realizing he is a loser, and most of all stop painting it out as if I won and I got the girl because I don't know if you haven't noticed but I haven't had the girl for a long fucking time"

And then like a breeze gone from a sail, the wind is sucked out of him and he finds himself exhausted, these past two weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster he never signed up for, but he's been avoiding the ride so long he is not shocked that it is a violent as it is. He props his head up on his hand and sighs, feeling a sense of déjà vu at the awkward silence and the restored tension between him and Rusty.

"You really do care for her don't you?"

Spitter's voice is quiet but there is no edge or hint of his previous resentment.

Cappie smiles sadly, it seems as if everything he has been running from, emotional confrontations , fights, the truth and his own feelings, have suddenly caught up and there is nothing he can do but be a man for once and face it.

"I really do, so much Rusty, I really do"

Suddenly flying amongst the clouds and fighting Hook doesn't seem so important if all Peter wants to do is fly to Wendy's window and see her one last time.

"So than why did you turn-"

"I don't know"

He laughs suddenly.

"I have no fucking clue why I said no"

And it's true he realises, whatever logic he was clinging to at the time has lost its and he wants her, he wants her so fucking badly. He thinks of a quote he came across in a literature class last year, _"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time"_ and agrees , he thinks of his Parents showing up two hours late to pick him up from school, he thinks of that time had written his favourite singer a letter and by the time they had responded he was already listening to another band and too much had happened in between. And perhaps this had been his fall back, his default train of thought when she had sprung her feelings on him so suddenly and unexpectedly in the closet.

He finds now that no amount of denying will make her confession any less true, and that perhaps he had been too tired of waiting to truly grasp the moment for what it was. However he is not numb, he feels everything for her and recognizes that there has never been a linear timeline between him and Casey, and perhaps there never will be a right moment for her confession because their timeline, his feelings and he realises now, hers, have always been so constant.

Rusty laughs suddenly, hard enough that he is doubled over the table, his fist hitting the wood repeatedly. He looks at Cappie and finds words between his gasping.

"You said I was an idiot for anticipating the end? Cap you've been so busy waiting to be turned down that when she actually admitted you were the one, you ended up rejecting her just so you could justify yourself. You idiot"

Rusty shakes his head and his laughter dies down and he looks at him seriously.

"Look, Cap I wouldn't be saying this if I wasn't sure she liked you so much. You need to get her back, considering how dramatic these past two weeks have been, you owe it to pretty much everyone at CRU to get her back and live happily ever after"

Its Cappie's turned to laugh, but its wistful and bitter all at once.

"I think it's a little late for that Spitter. Besides as much as I want her, I`m pretty much the worst boyfriend material, I can't or don't want to get my life together and that's what broke us up last time''

'' Then it`s time to grow up a little and get over yourself, the fact is I`m almost failing school right now to make it work with Jordan, I think the least you can do is cut an hour out of your drinking to spend time with the one person you`d rather be with anyway''

All the revelations, all this confrontation and having someone splash a cold wakeup call is almost too much and he falters.

"I don`t know if I can get her back this time"

And that is the worst realization of them all that perhaps in his denial and in his time spent self flagellating and regretting he may have lost any remaining chance he had.

Rusty looks at him hard, with a sort of intensity and certainty, that he was unused to receiving from his little brother.

"It`s not a matter of can, Cap, it`s a matter of need. And you need to get her back"

Cappie bites his lip hard before replying.

"`Well, I sure as hell am going to try"

Today the Kappa Tau version of Neverland is a strange, almost unsettling sight. The lost boys worked with focus and tenacity as the chaos of the house is chipped away at and stored in boxes, recycled and filed away. The sense of responsibility usually so fleeting among the brothers is very much present as a sense of order is instilled. More startling is the change within the leader, the boy, the man/child, the Peter Pan frat boy president looks both wistful and hopeful as he stares out from the clouds just close enough to catch a glimpse of Wendy Darlings window.

Cappie takes comfort in the fact that by this time tomorrow normality will be restored; tomorrow the beer will flow, the music will pump and the emotions will run wild. Tomorrow all talk of clean gutters and paid bills will turn to talk of cleavage and booze. And somewhere in his heart he knows tomorrow he has to make his move or that strange continuous timeline between him and Casey will finally meet its end.

* * *

AN: So.....uh that was way longer than usual =)

And you know it was 4000 odd words of 0 Casey/Cappie interaction BUT there will be next chapter whoo , and that's a promise.

There may be spelling and grammar mistakes galore but I am seriously lazy =)

Also, a huge thank you to ice-woman who write really encouraging reviews and also you know, is writing my all time favorite Greek fanfic - go check it out!

PLEASE review I appreciate it more than words can express.

-Merci

* * *


	6. Fifteen Days Of Sweating It All Out

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **6 Fifteen Days Of Sweating It Out**

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

_"If something anticipated arrives too late it finds us numb, wrung out from waiting, and we feel - nothing at all. The best things arrive on time". – Dorothy Gilman_

* * *

Another bead of sweat trickles down her forehead precariously close to her eye, and if she could, she would swipe the drop away with a shaky hand; actually if she could she would hit the girl sweating beside her.

She is pretty sure this is a sick, sick joke. Today was another day fresh out of heart therapy emotional breakdown rehab, and post breakdown Casey is supposed to be glowing with health and hope for the future, not drenched in sweat and still stuck in her head, not to mention stuck in an extremely uncomfortable position.

With a gust of air she blows a stray hair from her face and angles her head awkwardly to the right; her eyes fixed pointedly at the shaky sweating girl beside her.

"Ash" her words spit themselves out from behind gritted teeth. "I am going to kill you"

Ashleigh turns her face toward her with an expression caught in between humour, apology and sheer sweaty exhaustion. She mouths an "I'm so fucking sorry", and were it not for the look of sheer agony on her best friends face, she might be tempted to question it.

Up at the front the perky red head announces a change of position in a voice so calm and collected it literally makes her skin crawl, and she decides to direct her anger at this overtly perfect teacher stupid red head yoga fit bitch instructor instead.

Another bead of perspiration slides down her skin and hits her mat, which is looking more and more like a slip and slide. She sighs and decides to forgive Ashleigh only if she miraculously drops five pounds in the next forty-five minutes.

She doesn't, but decides to forgive her apparently sadistic best friend after she proposes a fries and ice cream combo.

"Seriously Ash...why? Why would going into a room that's like one hundred million degrees and working out ever seem like a good idea ....ever?"

Ashleigh shoves a handful of fries into her mouth before answering and looking (rightfully) guilty.

"The hot man who was promoting this place said it was like, super healthy and a cleansing experience...and I just thought you might want to..."

"I might want to sweat my brains out?"

"No cleanse, I thought you might wanna cleanse you-know-who out of your system, I mean ...you haven't wanted to talk about it at all, and"

And once again her skin is crawling with the unpleasant sensation of frustration, anger, and shame that is kind enough to take hold every time she is reminded of him, which lately, appears to be all the time.

She stops her ill-advised albeit well intentioned best friend mid-sentence, she can't hear this anymore. This being one of her first few excursions out since her self-imposed emotional lockdown, she does not want any more reminders of him, this new post-breakdown Casey needs steady reliable things, not hot yoga with irritating perky instructors and definitely not reminders of him. Post breakdown Casey needs fries, friends and perhaps something stronger than orange juice to wash this all away.

"That's because there's nothing to talk about"

Ashleigh looks as sceptical she has the other nine trillion times she's changed the subject, but it's necessary; this rehabbed Casey isn't strong enough to be reminded of the drug that chucked her sense of romantic ideals and self esteem out the window in a blatant refusal of her affection. This new post breakdown Casey needs to stay the hell away from any conversation about him, lest that lead to the idea she needs to ask about him, perhaps see him, just from a distance of course...or call him. She needs a Cappie free environment until she is strong enough to resist the pull of the drug. Naturally, getting drunk helps, so she's been doing that a lot, and since Ashleigh has found her tipsy at three in the afternoon on more than one occasion, although one of the times she was actually just giddy, it seems only reasonable that her best friend has been hovering over her, and the topic of him.

Ashleigh sighs and looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with the gruelling work out in a sauna.

"Well, seeing as you won't talk about it. I thought you could sweat it out and I'm really sorry I didn't realize we'd like literally sweat it out. The hot yoga man just seemed so toned and chill; I thought you might need some of that, especially since the party tonight is being held at the KT house..."

She laughs and shovels some fries down, feeling the slightest bit of comfort in the fact that she at least earned the calories.

"I'm pretty sure hot yoga man is toned and chill cause he probably does nothing but like work out and be Zen, which means he has no time for things like rejection, breakups, rejection, break downs, did I mention rejection?. Anyways that doesn't even matter because I'm not going tonight"

"Case..."

Perhaps a month ago her best friend would be more demanding, actually she's positive that just two weeks ago Ashleigh would have ignored all protests and dragged her out in some skimpy costume with the sole intention of taking back what was rightfully hers. Except that he's not hers and this new Casey is still somewhat of a stranger to Ashleigh, to herself. This new Casey is quieter, more guarded yet more irrational and somehow this new Casey is unable to take her best friend's advice. And as much as she wants to, she can't, she cannot under any circumstance go to the party, this new Casey is still in recovery and somehow she knows that going into that house would be like a junkie walking into a room full of heroin. If she saw him there, if she saw him with another girl, all this progress, all this healing would be lost in a moment of madness and that needle would be under her skin in a second without any thought of the consequences.

"You know I can't go, I'll be fine though" She tries to console this girl that is trying at once to heal the old Casey and learn to live with the new less exciting model. "Seriously, you and Fisher go, have fun. I have like a week's worth of homework to catch up on. Go"

Something similar to disappointment flickers across Ashleigh's face before her expression settles on resignation.

"Just think about it 'kay? It might be nice for the rest of the Greek system to know you haven't disappeared of the face of the earth. Also I'm pretty sure Cappie to know if you're alive and -"

"Ash stop, please, just let it be"

"Just think about it"

And then the ice cream arrives in time to cool the tension, and the sudden urge to snap at her best friend for holding out temptation at an arm's length, for dangling the idea he might be wondering about her in front of his face. Post rehab Casey recites her twelve step program in her head. Step one: Move on, forget and move forward. Step two: Move on, forget and move forward. Steps three through twelve: Move on, forget and move forward.

* * *

"Does this loin cloth make me look fat? Be honest"

Through the mirror he sees Rusty roll his eyes, and Beaver chuckle shaking his head.

"Oh Cap, if I were a Cave lady I would be all over your fine Caveman ass"

He laughs and turns to face his friends, perched like girls on his bed and as if they were judging his possible outfit options for a date with the team captain. Like oh my god.

"Too far Beav, a little too far"

Beaver laughs and heads for the door.

"Whatever dude, the cave man look suites you. I'm supposed to go pick up the booze with Wade anyways. I'm out"

"Remember to get some gin as well"

"I'm on it"

Cappie eyes Rusty who is looking bored out of his mind.

"What tell me this isn't fun, don't you want me to look good tonight? As the president I'm pretty much expected to go all out on theme parties, it's like the law"

Rusty raises an eyebrow and cracks a grin.

"Cappie, I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for me at Dobbler's and I'm still basically flunking out of my honours program. Don't get me wrong, this has been.....interestingly fun, but I got a lot on my plate"

"And tonight you'll have a lot in your cup. Yeah, yeah, I'll let you go but first I need you to be honest, I know Beaver went for the slutty look but is this too much? Should I go for the ripped toga tiger skinned thing instead?"

For the thousandth time today he feels uncomfortably similar to some clichéd teenage girl with some serious angst issues, not to mention a wardrobe crisis.

Rusty laughs.

"The tiger thing please, I don't really wanna see that much of your leg like ever again"

He smiles, inwardly relieved, he's confidant but considering much of it is bravado and considering his mood these past two weeks he wasn't really sure he'd have it in him to prance around in a loin cloth all night. That and it seemed like a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen.

"Aww but the ladies love it; they go all primal after seeing me so...primal"

Rusty gives him a knowing if not a little chastising smile.

"I'm pretty sure it's going to take more than a loin cloth to get Casey back"

And there it was, the harsh truth, Rusty always had a knack for cutting to the chase when he wanted it the least. He didn't know if she was even coming and yet for the past ten hours he had fretted like a little girl over the smallest things. Should he dress up for it, of course, but then she might think that parties are the only thing he cares about, but then he might seem like he was an obvious wreck if he didn't dress up. He feels the urge to check his cabinet and make sure that a pack of tampons hasn't replaced his Mach 3 razors. Perhaps the overload of Jodie Picoult and Gilmore Girls has seriously wreaked havoc with his hormones. Or perhaps he still hasn't come to terms with the fact that he sabotaged his one chance with the Lorelai to his Luke.

Reluctantly he meets Rusty's expectant gaze, with even more reluctance he ignores the urge to regress and divert this with a joke.

"Have you talked to her lately? How is she- I mean, is she coming"

Spitter frowns, but it is not accusing rather his little brother looks a little helpless.

"I dunno man; she seemed pretty set on not going last time I talked to her. But I talked to Ashleigh and she said she'd work on Casey. I told her that you wanted to try and win her back ...I hope that's okay"

He bites his lip, retreating once again into his thoughts, teenaged dirt bag, angst filled and wondering thoughts. Part of him is relieved that she probably won't be coming , this is the same part of him that shot down the idea of getting her back, because this part, actually all of him really is still convinced she'll have come to her senses and will reject him, again. But the other part of him, the hopeful side of him whose romantic ideals have somehow escaped being crushed, is churning with disappointment, he wants her to come, this part of him wants her here now, pending rejection and all.

Sighing he brushes his hands through his hair and turns toward the mirror again.

"I better get out of this Tarzan underwear and into my costume if we're going to get this party off the ground in time. I also put Pickle in charge of setting up the cave man's lair which in retrospect seems a little short sighted, also I don't know what you meant about meeting Jordan at Dobbler's but that better have been a euphemism for picking her up at getting your asses back here to set up. This party isn't going to throw itself"

Rusty shakes his head and makes toward the door.

"I'll be back in time Cap. I wouldn't miss the dawn of time for the world"

And then once again he finds himself alone with this (scantily clad) reflection, judging himself with his own eyes. This reflection is at once defiant, broken, hopeful and more than a little slutty. His thirteen year old girl alter ego is biting her nails and shifting from foot to foot. This teenage girl is a nervous wreck nervous about being stood up for prom, or even if the team captain actually shows she's nervous for the prom itself. Cappie wonders silently how someone so apparently laid back about life could end up so twisted about love. Part of him wants to give up now, to get up and skip town because all this angst and all these nerves can't be worth it, but the other half of him is clinging to this maybe second chance, because this part of him is present in his dreams as he relives that moment again and again, replying "Yes I want you too" to her declaration of ...caring, desire, love?

He shakes his head, his eyes bugging a little. Note to self, stop acting like a child and get ready for the fucking party. He hears the crash of something falling downstairs and somehow this calms him, he needs a distraction from the sudden paralyzing urge to call her and tell her to come.

Pulling on his slightly more decent costume he decides to take a step back and wait it out because he is this close to a panic induced cleaning attack. Instead, he heads down the stairs to meet the chaos of his home. Maybe she'll come tonight, maybe she won't, maybe she'll reject him flat out, maybe she'll ignore him all together, or maybe, maybe she'll give him a chance to repent and reopen that door she had held ajar before, the one he had closed to callously and so carelessly.

One thing he is sure of is that he needs to stop fucking thinking about it, one thing he is sure of is that he can't stop thinking about it, and he is definitely sure that there will be heavy drinking tonight- he needs to cope one way or another, and right now he needs to wait it out.

* * *

The remote clatters and the batteries fly out. Her eyes had watched it arc from her hand through the air and she had listened to the crash with some satisfaction. The TV was no distraction; apparently love stories are all the rage on cable on a Saturday night. She eyes her book bag on her desk with distaste, there is no way she can study right now if she can't even focus on Gilmore Girl reruns.

She sighs and bites her lip. There is no way she can go. She can't, it would be a bad idea for so many reasons. Not to mention she would look like a fool after arguing with Ashleigh about it for half an hour. There is no way she can go. She needs to stay here, away from the temptation, away from the drama, away from the lights and buzz – away from him.

What she needs is a distraction. But tonight seems different from the last fourteen; tonight she is all nerves and energy in place of her moping and dejectedness. Tonight Ben and Jerry's and The Notebook seem repulsive, tonight the notion of curling up and hiding out seems cowardly and ridiculous. Perhaps she sweated out some of her fear earlier on today, because right now she wants action, she wants closure, she wants...something.

She shakes her head. She can't go, she can't. Especially not looking like this. She can't.

Fifteen minutes of scrambling finds her made up, without a costume save for leopard print tights stolen from Ashleigh, and walking briskly toward the KT house.

It's only as she is walking to the door that she wonders what the hell she is doing.

* * *

There are drums, there is noise, there is so much alcohol that regardless of the theme things would be getting primal anyway.

He is lingering he realises; half socializing, half drinking, half flirting, half aware really because half of his attention has been focused on the door for the past hour.

He sighs suddenly and with great effort he turns himself away and heads toward a group of girls.

Tipping the drink to his lips, he wonders just what the hell he is doing.

* * *

Hellooo,

First off, I just wanted to appologize for the huge dely in chapter postage, I had a case of Too Much Vacation mixed with Not Too Happy With This Chapter illness which is quite a delaying affliction. I'm still not 100% pleased with this chapter but I just wanted to get it out and stop looking at it , so naturally I deleted half of it and wrote the rest at 3am and edited as lazily as possible. Ha. I don't know, I know I said that my writing style would vary chapter to chapter but i'm sort of stuck right now and I can seem to ride/write it out =( ...

This is just a random little side note but I listened to a pretty introspective playlist while writing, and although there were alot of songs on it these ones really stuck out as the inspiration ( mood-wise, not lyricss wise ) for the chaptes thus far.

Metric - Satellite Mind,  
- On The Sly

Arctic Monkeys - 505 ( The line " I crumble completely when you cry" basically kills me everytime but also has given me some ideas for the last chapter)

Bahamas - Already Yours

The Shins - Turn On Me, and Pink Bullets

Tegan and Sara - Back In Your Head , and I know I know I know

The XX - Heart Skipped A Beat

ohh and The Perishers - Nothing Like You and I ( because after At The Worlds End, I have been unable to associate that song with anything BUT Cappie and Casey)

Anyways there will be tops two more chapters to this story and yes, there will be plenty interaction between Cappie and Casey. More so than on the show at least, which I am loving by the way as much as I want Cap and Case to just do it already, drawn out tension is a season laster! Also man stealing Rebecca ? It may be a very used storyline with her but she is kind of amazing when she's a bitch.

Okay I'm going to stop rambling an get some sleep. But I wanted to say that I have written the last scene so the wait shouldn't be as long this time- however my classes start on wed so there might be some school related delay.

Phew, off to bed for me.

And off to review for you please, it'll help me get on that last chapter and finish it up.

THANKS SO SO SO SO MUCH for sticking with this story this far, I really appreciate it, all of it.


	7. All This Time Spent Waiting In Moments 1

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **7 All This Time Spent Waiting In Moments pt 1 **

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

She spends the first half hour at the party growing increasingly mad. The music is obnoxious and her costume is so half-hearted it's embarrassing. For the first five minutes she tried to convince herself that she isn't there to see him. But after turning down two requests to dance, and chucking the shot glass Wade had shoved in her hand she stopped trying to kid herself: she wants to see him; she needs to see him. Just to talk, she assures herself- although her body is craving a different kind of closure- just to talk.

She seeks him out in all his favourite haunts: the dance floor, the bar, the hot tub. She approached his bedroom with such anxiety, not sure if she could handle the sight of some girl in his bed. The surge of relief that flooded her upon seeing an empty bed was almost embarrassing and she was glad that no one had been there to witness it. It was around then that she began to grow annoyed.

She let her pride pool on the ground several minutes ago and now she is openly asking every person she sees: "have you seen Cap?", "where is Cappie". Ashleigh had shot her a knowing look and Rusty had grinned with such enthusiasm that she spared a moment of her search to call him a freak.

She grits her teeth for the billionth time this evening as yet another person admits to seeing him, but five minutes ago. So far everyone has seen Cappie, so far every person is sure that Cappie was in some room and when she inquires there she is directed to another room. The Kappa Tau house is not that big and now she worries that he saw her and bailed.

This scares and enrages her: she finds herself torn between wanting to slap him for wussing out and wanting to him to reassure her in some way, anyway, that he is still there for her in some capacity.

It's Beaver who saves the day in the end, grabbing her elbow and pointing to the roof.

"Go easy on him Case"

And she ponders the definition of irony with every step she takes.

* * *

Of course he had seen her.

His eyes half glued on the door, he had traced her form with apprehension and appreciation as she walked in. Those leopard tights clung to her legs and he hates himself a little more because he could have been the guy to greet her at the door with a kiss. He could have been the guy to hold her drinks while she lounged against his chest. He could have been the guy that held her hand while they danced. Her leopard tights, his tiger toga: two animals. He could have made primal jokes all night long, and she could have been the one to laugh against his skin, and laugh into his kiss; eyes glassy from too much alcohol, hair mussed from his fingers running through it.

But he's not. He's spent the last two weeks kicking himself, and denying himself and pretty much acting against everything he believes in.

Of course he had seen her.

She came in the door and he had pulled away from the crowd of people, determined to rectify things, determined to make it right for once. And then he had seen her sad smile and her grimace at the lights and the sounds and once again she became the unattainable and he was never good enough to begin with.

He pussied out. Majorly.

The roof has been his haven lately. He spends the next half an hour dousing himself in alcohol and counting the tiles. Just one more sip and then he is going to talk to her. He's been psyching himself up all day; tonight will make things right. Tonight will change things, somehow.

Halfway through his third beer he realizes he never thought of how. And then he's lost again because he honestly doesn't know what to say to her. He just wants her back. He just wants her.

* * *

Her arm hits the window at awkward angle and he turns around at the sound. She doesn't meet his gaze and instead pretends to focus on getting out of the window and onto the roof, although it's really not that hard, and they both know it.

She's so full of emotion right now. Charged enough that she's certain she will spark if he gets too close, or, god forbid, if he touches her. Irritation, hurt, guilt, shame, nerves and a tiny flicker of lust course through her and she doesn't know what to feel. Her face his hot and she's avoided his gaze too long now, so when she drags her eyes up to meet his face she isn't prepared to see that his expression mirror hers.

It's awkward. The silences between the two have been many things: angry, loving, tension filled, but never awkward. She struggles to find her footing in this new space between them; she doesn't know where to start.

"Hey"

He always was the initiator in their relationship. She can't help but feel a step behind, even now. She can barely mange a nod back. And suddenly she is wondering just what the fuck she is doing here. Suddenly she is wondering how a conversation can change anything. Suddenly she is wondering if they are too far gone.

"Nice costume"

She points to his toga, immediately hating herself for being a wimp and avoiding the topic.

He looks let down, but he's smiling anyway.

"Same to you"

She shakes her head and hugs her arms to her chest. It's cold on the roof but that's not why she's shivering.

"I wasn't planning on coming"

He nods. Not smiling anymore.

"I'm glad you did"

"Yeah…

She looks away. Unsure, nervous, whatever. She was supposed to get over him. She was supposed to wallow, and maybe gain a pound in ice cream, and then she was supposed to move on. She wonders why she came. She wonders why the hell she can't seem to say what she wants to say and get it over with. She wonders why she still wants him .She wonders why she can't stop.

"So, we need to talk Casey... Don't we?"

A feeling of self loathing grabs hold and seems to choke her: that was supposed to be her line; she was supposed to take control. Nowhere in her head had she imagined this shivering little girl, silent and confused and not at all proactive.

She forces out a reply. And her heart screams "I want you, I want you, I want you"

"Yeah…"

"I can't get over you Casey. I can't ever seem to get over you, or get away from you. and I tried, believe me but I can't get over you and I want you."

She looks up at him sharply. She can't pretend she's never wanted to hear those words, but they don't sound hopeful or loving or even kind. They sound bitter and jaded and even a little sad. Fear seems to take hold and suddenly there are words on her tongue and suddenly they are tumbling out of her mouth faster then she can register.

"Then why did you say those things Cap? If you've wanted me for so long why the hell would you turn me away?"

Her body feels more alive now. For the first time in two weeks she is feeling something. It strikes her as odd that it is anger that is getting her going but it feels good to feel anything again, and her body clings to the sensation.

"You don't understand. What happened at the party that was a mistake. I was trying to convince myself that I could move on. And I can't Casey, I can't and I know I never will"

He looks sort of lost and sad and irritated all at once. And he's trying to explain things but she seems stuck on the fact that he rejected her.

"No, Cap. You don't get to say that. Every time I rejected you. I was with somebody else. I had a legitimate excuse and I regretted it every time. You have no excuse. I wanted you so badly and you said no. You didn't have an excuse Cappie"

He looks angry now too and somehow she knows neither of them had planned on it ending like this. But she can't seem to control her anger; it floods her veins and pulses through her and right now it seems like the only language they both understand.

"Clearly you don't get it either. '_Every time I rejected you?_' That was pretty much the problem Casey. I rejected you once. Once! Sorry if I wanted to save face just one time. So don't give me that bullshit about having no excuse. There was no excuse for how you treated me."

"How I treated you? Do you even remember why we broke up in the first place?"

She can't seem to stop. This isn't what she wants to say at all but the words seem to keep tumbling out of her mouth and nothing can seem to stop them.

"How can you try and save face when I was the one giving myself to you. I went to the party; I broke up with Max for you. I-I told you I wanted to try us again and you said no. Don't feed me excuses from the past. You did this. You were the one who said you didn't want me. I still want you Cappie. "

He doesn't answer. His face is a mask and she can't read it. Her breath comes out in pants, and its cold enough to see the dispelled air float away. It's too much. Maybe she isn't ready for this. Clearly he isn't ready for this. He's probably drunk, she probably will be soon. Maybe they won't ever get the timing right.

By the time he breaks the silence she's already prepared to take the blow. It's almost skilful, the way she shuts down completely. These past two weeks she's felt numb and sad, and it's almost like stepping back into some comfortable place: she cocoons herself in it muffling the world around her, shutting it out. He took all those rejections in stride. But she can't, she can't deal with another one, so she flees before he has the chance to hurt her again.

He's speaking to her but she's already turning around and leaving. He's speaking to her but she's not listening. She can outrun this she thinks. It was stupid coming here. It was stupid and embarrassing and she just wasted the evening yelling at someone she never wants to yell at. She just spent the evening hurting someone she never wants to hurt. So he doesn't want her. She can't take it now, but she will take it somehow, someday. She just needs to get out of here; she just needs to get as far away from him as possible.

She misses his words as she climbs in the window.

"I want you too Casey. I still do"

But she is already gone.

* * *

He watches her leave. Already the argument is cold and sour and he knows he didn't mean a word of it. He knows he just wants her. Alone with his breath and the dull noise from the party below, he lingers, torn between the solace of the roof and the danger of the chase. It would be so easy to pick up another bottle, and nurse the hurt and settle back into the routine of what could have been and never will.

His fingers twitch, as if accepting the bottle before he even grabs it.

He clenches his hand instead, for once easy isn't so inviting.

Heart thumping, body tense, he rushes toward the window.

He's not letting her get away this time.

* * *

So so so SO sorry for the delay. Job, school, life, midterms, finals, papers and all that kind of crap got in the way. And then they got together on the show and I was so happy about that it was kind of difficult to get back into this angsty little state of mind.

Anyways. I hope this chapter turned out okay, I had to force it in some parts. It was longer but I've decided to split it into two parts. the next chapter will be the last and I'm almost finished it whoooo!

(Shameless self promotion here but I've written some Casey/Cap oneshots so feel free to check them out , and if you like Vampire Diaries i've been dabbling with some stories there too. )

I hope I didn't lose all my readers by taking so long. and i apologize if i did.

please please please please review

it will make my day.

XOXO


	8. All This Time Spent Waiting In Moments 2

Waiting in Moments

Chapter: **8 All This Time Spent Waiting In Moments pt 2 **

Summary:

Cappie/Casey post season 2 finale.

_"We do not remember days, we remember moments" - Cesare Pavese_

A collection of moments in the aftermath of the finale.

* * *

It feels sort of surreal and ridiculous and if it weren't so important to him it would be exciting, but he is hell bent on catching her and he is hell bent on making her feel loved again. The party and the people are blurring past him and he is dodging cups and couples left and right. She's at the bottom of the stairs now, walking in some kind of sad daze and this hurts him more than any of her rejections.

He catches her in the hallway, his hand around her arm a little too tight, a little too needy. People are looking and talking and pointing and he needs her alone because she deserves more than this. At the same time he feels a little too close to a romantic comedy cliché and part of him wants to scream to hell with this and they can figure the rest out over a bottle of gin. There needs to be some sort of common ground and he really doesn't want anyone watching; he panics, she runs.

He pulls her into the closet before he can really register the magnitude of the action. So many things had happened in that cramped space. He remembers making out with her in there, the night they first got together. She had been shy and he'd been kind of drunk but none of it mattered because he had her pressed against the wall and she had kissed him with surprising confidence and control. He remembers that one drunken night when they came home to find Wade passed out in his bed. He had been cursing his friend when she had pulled him in there with a smile. It took an hour for them to find her bra afterward but the smile never left her face. All those kisses and memories hazy with lust and need and giddy smiles and tangled hands and legs: he had ruined it that night. Rejecting her in there. It makes sense now that they do this here. That they get this right.

She looks conflicted and he just wants to kiss it away. But he can't do that yet. So he holds her as close as he can get because they're going to get it right this time. They need to.

It's too tempting, the idea of wallowing in self pity – she wants to play the victim because she wants to be saved. She's on some sort of ledge and is trying so hard to fall over. She's trying to slip and push her self that last centimetre back into that lovely little abyss pooling with regret and a life lived through photographs in retrospect. She's trying too hard to jump and something is holding her back. Something is holding her back with a ferocity, an almost violence and through her blindness she opens her eyes just in time to see his face - in pain and impassioned - before her face is pressed against his chest.

He pulls her in shuts the door. She can tell by the sheer feel of the space that they're in the closet. There are so many memories tucked away in the small space, it's overwhelming. She thinks it could be suffocating, the pressure of this place. But he clutches her closer, and closer, so close that each breath she takes pushes against him and so he squeezes her tighter and she remembers how much she loves the feel of his arms around her.

He can feel her trembling and shaking, and he's certain there are tears and in some sick way he is happy because that is the most raw and exposed she has ever been in front of him and he wants that Casey, he wants her as close as she can physically be, and then even closer still.

"Don't run away Case, don't run away on me"

His words slide through her with a shiver that she knows he felt, and they both know he was not speaking in a literal sense.

She breathes and pulls far enough away that she can see his face, knowing somehow he would have stopped her had she gone any farther.

She breathes and the last few tears trickle down her face.

He sees this and he crumbles; his breath a sharp inhale, his face conflicted.

The timing was never right. And she's spent the last year or so ignoring the "what ifs" and the "maybes" because she was certain they were too damaged to ever work again. The timing was never right because when she was ready, he was too hard and too callous and too cold to be hers. Their timing was always wrong, and they were always reading the signals wrong. And now she feels stupid and embarrassed and sad and still she's wondering when and if the right time will ever present itself.

And then suddenly, a smile slips smoothly onto her mouth, as if it hadn't been missing for the last while. And like a trigger pulled a smile shoots across his face before he has time to register the change. Then there is laughter: at first embarrassed and quiet, then loud and forgiving; it dances between the two of them and dissolving any remnants of the intensity and severity of their almost reunion.

Then the laughter having run its course fell to the wayside and it its place an acceptance; the quiet promise of future excitement and for once, clarity.

She speaks first.

"So it's safe to say we're both idiots"

He laughs, and removes one hand from her waist to touch her cheek.

" Yeah, you know, considering we're both supposed to be these sanguine, easy going, happy people ...we sure crash hard"

" I know...I think I should be embarrassed at how .....down and out...I got but" She laughs and trails off, looking up at him through her lashes. "But only for you"

He smiles.

" I know"

A small squeak is head from beyond the closet door. They both turn to watch the light and shadow play in the crack between the door and the floorboards, shifting for a moment before settling on shadow.

She eyes the door knowingly.

" So I'm pretty sure Ashleigh has everyone waiting outside the door"

He rolls his eyes, his smile so endearingly large she has half a mind to take a picture, but at this moment she is tired of living in remembered moments, and at this moment, leaving the comfort of his arms sounds the like worst idea, ever. Seriously.

He grabs her arm and turns her toward him again, this guilty, giddy smile on his face and for some reason she's blushing like crazy.

"Aaaaand I'm pretty sure they won't leave until they hear us hooking up"

She bites her lip and does her best not to focus on his mouth, his face, his eyes. The tension, which before had been sitting comfortably at low since their bout of laughter suddenly hit overdrive. And she starts to notice his proximity; she is all too aware of his hands on her back, the line of his jaw and the look in his eye.

He feels it too and there is a moment of sheer elation that he is feeling this in the right moment with the right girl; _the girl_. Now all he needs is the closure of her mouth on his, because he is all too aware of her lips as she bites at them nervously; of her hands around his neck; of the rise and fall of her chest and most of all, the openness in her face.

He leans in and she pauses, stalling for time because suddenly she's thirteen and screw their history, screw the fact she's kissed him more times than she can count, right now she's thirteen and doesn't know where the fuck to put her mouth.

"Don't we need to talk Cappie, I mean, obviously there's stuff we need to sort out before..."

He shakes his head, endeared, knowing and turned on all at once.

"Do we really?"

Her fingers tap nervously on his neck.

"I don't know, shouldn't we at least like, sort out where we stand?"

He laughs and something in her relaxes.

"I know exactly where I'm standing Casey, I'm with you"

And his lips are on hers without further protest.

He pulls her closer toward him, feeling at once as if the weight of the world had been lifted but also as if he is wound tighter then he had ever been in his life. Suddenly all the things he wanted to do, he can, and this realization is so exciting he literally doesn't know where to start. So he goes by feel, the feel of her body guides his hands to his favourite places, the feel of her mouth has him pressing her closer and closer with both impatience and indulgence. It's so strange to go from wanting to having. Some have folded under the sensation, some have found a sense of regret, of nostalgia for the chase, but he has never relished something as much as he is now. The sting of rejection which he was so familiar with has somehow made the reunion that much sweeter. Fuck the drama, fuck the words, the friends, the fights, he wants her. He wants her, and now, he has her.

She has never been one for dramatics but there was something about their relationship, stunted and epic all at once that deserved, no, needed all the fanfare. They needed all the fireworks and music and tears, because each moment with them had always been a long time coming. And she is tired of waiting, and most importantly so is he. She presses herself closer to him, her lips moulding to his, her body melting in response to his touch. This moment, she decides, is worth all the waiting in the world.

And as if answering her need for fireworks and drama, there is the sound of clapping from beyond the closet door.

She sort of hears Ashleigh telling people to "go away and let them make out in peace"

He kind of hears Beaver shout a loud, "be safe"

There is shuffling and cheering and noise from beyond the closet door.

She doesn't really notice because she's too busy trying to tangle herself in him, and he's smiling against her lips and she can't stop smiling back.

_Fin._

* * *

WoW!

I've never finished a story before this feels amazing, and I want to thank everyone who put up with my spastic style and random updates and reviewedddddd thank you!

It's a little sappy and corny but I think those two deserve it. I'm sketching out the rough draft of another one, not sure if it's gonna be a multichap or a onesie we'll see.

Wanna make my world and give an early ( or on time or late, depending on when you read this) christmas prezzie by reviewing?

XOXO


End file.
